Goodnight Moon
by 6GunSally
Summary: Life is a series of moments. Good and bad. Miles and Franziska have both had their share of the bad, but it was the good that carried them through. Fluffy, cutesy, and wubby… Hey, I warned you…
1. A Visitor

**_1: A Visitor_**

* * *

He arrived at the start of spring, when winter still blustered and whispered through the cold evenings while the sun chased it away in the day. He was bigger than she was and she was disappointed. So she cried and the nurse took her away.

They gave Miles a room on the second floor in the guest wing of the house. So he had no neighbors and he was apart from the rest of the family. After all, he was only a transient, no sense in getting too comfortable.

They left him alone in his new space, so he could unpack his meager luggage. He had a few shirts from home—ones his Dad bought for him. But there were no keepsakes. No trappings from his old life. Nothing of the habiliments that had made up the Edgeworth household.

He stayed in the room, venturing only as far as the door to peek into the dark corridor. Then he would sit and think until the things in his head became more unbearable than the unknown.

It was evening when he was led downstairs by a taciturn young maid and brought to join Mister Von Karma at his table.

The hall was grand and the table long. This table must have seated princes and dukes of old. Now it was the crumbling domain of a hateful old man and his young daughter, and now, their visitor.

The wood was dark and heavy and solid as stone. Even Miles, who was nearly ten had a hard time climbing into the chair and sitting within comfortable reach of the surface.

"Miles Edgeworth," Mister Von Karma told him, "I've brought you here to learn. You are no longer a child to be coddled and I will see to it that you learn to focus your studies and become better than what you are. Better than your father."

Miles nodded, looking small and lost at that big table in a chair he couldn't move in a room so large the old man's voice echoed.

"You owe the world your time and energy, and you owe your father your penance."

Miles stared at him, fearful, but he had nothing to say.

At first it was dreary, because Mister Von Karma had ordered assessments of his knowledge and education thus far and those early days were spent testing and answering questions and reciting excerpts from certain books. The nights were worst, when Miles was left alone with himself and nowhere to escape to. His private tribulation showed in the dark circles under his eyes and the drawn look to his face.

No amount of brocade and wool and brass buttons and those other glittering accoutrements that Mister Von Karma preferred could turn this wretched little boy into a prince. Mister Von Karma had no qualms with reminding him of that.

For months, Miles haunted the enormous house like a sad lingering spirit. He bothered no one and no one bothered him. Some days he would go and explore the grounds on his own, but that provided him little other distraction.

One of the maids, a Fraulein called Elle Grün, took pity on him after so many weeks of seeing him struggle and flounder. She saw that Miles was a child that was not thriving, and she came to his room when he cried and held him through the worst of his night terrors.

Fraulein Grün did not speak but a word or two of English and though he was a student of German, he could not yet make himself understood in those days. But a word that sounded kind and a smile before bed were a much-needed break from the staid professors and the cold words from the old man.

Fraulein Grün was promptly dismissed from the household when Mister Von Karma learned of her meddling.

But not before she gave Miles the Moon. The Moon could be seen most clearly in the early hours of morning when even the spirits are silent. In a nook in a drawing room in the guest wing that was never used; where the furniture was covered in canvas and pushed to the sides and extra bits from other rooms were kept. In that room there was a nook in the window where the Moon seemed to live.

One night when Miles was having a particularly bad time of it, shouting and thrashing in his dreams in that lonely end of the house, the Fraulein came to him. She held him until the tears subsided and spoke to him softly in German.

Miles only wanted to run away, to leave forever, regardless of what fate might befall a boy alone in a strange land. Instead Fraulein Grün took him to the derelict drawing room. She sat in that nook and pulled him onto her lap and she talked about the moon. He only recognized the word for moon and one other phrase: Gute Nacht.

After she'd been let go, Miles would wander back to that nook to stare at the moon on those nights when the fear was too much and he couldn't bear the immense guilt and pain of his loss. He wasn't able to bring anything to remind him of home, but he remembered the moon.

And the moon was always the same.

* * *

**_A/N: I was due for something goopy and sugary sweet…_**

_Tell me what you think!_


	2. A Gun

**_2: A Gun_**

* * *

Miles stood next to Mister Von Karma while the old man examined the classic muskets in the open collector's case in front of them.

"This is called a matchlock," Mister Von Karma held up the old weapon, "This is the strike plate, the match goes here."

He set down the gun and held up a small lead ball, "This is the shot for such a weapon."

Miles followed him along the impressive gun collection while Mister Von Karma explained to him how each one was used.

"See how the bullet is deformed from striking bone inside the body," Mister Von Karma paused so that Miles could study the bullet. His collection was very comprehensive and the case they had open had old guns like the muskets and gradually, as they moved along, the guns were more modern.

So were the bullets.

Miles took a step back and Mister Von Karma followed with his bullet-laden hand. Miles shook his head and the old man laughed a slow cold crackling laugh.

"Are you afraid of this bullet Miles Edgeworth?"

"No, sir," Miles said. They both knew he was lying. Mister Von Karma cocked his head at the boy and grinned.

"You are a sensitive, emotional boy…" he said, "What are you frightened of?"

"I don't like guns," Miles said.

Mister Von Karma laughed outright. It was a mean, booming sound.

"Oh," he said and paused to catch his breath, "You don't _like_ them…?"

Miles tried very hard not to cringe in front of the old man.

"You're not supposed to _like_ them," Mister Von Karma said, "This is not a collection for my own vanity. This is a tool. Just like this gun is a tool. A criminal's tool. Do you understand?"

Miles nodded.

"I said do you understand _little Edgeworth_?"

"Yes, sir," Miles said.

"Take it," Mister Von Karma had replaced the bullet and held out the gun.

Miles back away from him and shook his head.

"Take it Edgeworth! Feel it in your little hands."

Miles wanted to turn and flee. Don't do this! He felt the weight of it in his hands. His hands were shaking and the gun clattered to the floor.

"Bang!" Mister Von Karma said.

Miles met the man's eye for a moment, wondering why? Why was he doing this?

Miles covered his ears to block out the screaming and turned to run.

"Don't run away, Miles Edgeworth," Mister Von Karma said.

He caught Miles at the door and Miles collapsed with his hands over his ears and the scream echoing in his head.

"I know about you, Miles Edgeworth," Mister Von Karma said.

* * *

**_A/N: Thanks for reading!_**

_I can't help it… I like torturing this guy…_

_I promise there is fluff… _


End file.
